


Being Human

by stellarmeadow



Series: Season 4 Codas/Missing Scenes [10]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Coda, Episode 4.10, Episode Related, Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 14:47:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarmeadow/pseuds/stellarmeadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve doesn't know what to do with himself after he leaves Pearl. So he goes to Danny's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Being Human

**Author's Note:**

> Later than usual, and my head will not be thanking me for that when I get up tomorrow, but this one was hard to crack for some reason. Part of the series, so you'll probably want to read the other stories first. I really hope the series is working in tandem with the eps this far in!
> 
> Spoilers for 410 below! Enjoy! :)

Danny settled back on the couch, beer in hand. It had been a long day, almost long enough to shove the memory of that room in the side of a mountain out of his head. Hopefully a beer would finish the job and banish it to his nightmares. 

Before he could take a sip, though, his door opened and Steve walked in. He had something in his hand that Danny couldn't identify until he got closer. A baseball glove--an old one by the looks of it. Danny looked up to see Steve's face as he sat down, and frowned. He looked like a kid who just lost his puppy. 

"Where've you been?" Danny asked, putting his beer on the table. 

"Pearl." Steve had his hand in the baseball glove, and he stretched his fingers inside it, flexing it. "I went to see the Arizona. And I ran into David."

If he'd been to the Arizona, that might explain the look, at least. Danny had gone with him on December 7 the year before, and the mixture of pride and sadness on Steve's face as he read his grandfather's name on the wall had haunted Danny for days. "You wanna talk about it?"

Steve shrugged, but didn't speak. He picked up Danny's beer and downed about half the bottle in one go. Danny tried not to stare at the way Steve's throat worked, forcing his eyes back to Steve's face. Steve let the bottle dangle between his fingers as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, looking down at the bottle. 

"Look," Danny said, "I realize that they shove a giant trunk into your brain in SEAL school to lock away all the shit you go through, and you're just supposed to keep filling them up, but believe me, people aren't made that way." 

He shifted sideways, leaning forward until he got Steve to look his way and meet his eyes. "Part of becoming an actual human being," Danny said carefully, "is learning how to deal with the shit instead of locking it away."

Danny had made inroads into Steve's stoic stiff upper lip routine, but he had a long way to go, and he wasn't sure which Steve he'd get this time. Whether he'd break and talk, or just deflect. 

Steve took another long drink and put the bottle on the table before holding up the glove. "David remembered my grandfather," he said. "Turns out David's father tutored my grandfather that fall." The smile that crossed Steve's lips made Danny's heart ache. "And he used to play catch with David. He gave him this," Steve said, tapping the glove, "the night before the attack."

The confusion on his face made Danny want to hug him, but he just waited for Steve to keep going. "It's the first time I can remember that anyone told me a firsthand story about my grandfather," Steve said finally. "Deb doesn't remember him. Dad never met him." 

Steve closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again and meeting Danny's gaze. "I've been losing people since before I was born. Since before Dad was born. Every little bit I get back," he said, tapping the glove again, "is like gold."

"And I hate," he continued, ducking his head, eyes focused on the glove, or maybe the floor, Danny wasn't sure, "I hate that he went down on that ship. I feel guilty for hating it when so many people lost so much more that day, and for years after." 

He looked up again, his eyes finding Danny's. "Don't get me wrong--I'm proud of him," he said. "But I hate that I never knew him. I hate that Dad didn't. Maybe if he'd known his father, he wouldn’t have--"

 _Handled his own kids so badly?_ Danny thinks about his own father, who'd hugged him when he'd gotten home a few weeks before, who'd been there for every baseball game, every messed up relationship Danny'd had, and so much more. And of his mother, who was the polar opposite of Doris McGarrett. He felt a little guilty for his luck. "It's okay to hate it," he said. "Feeling guilty for it is...silly."

Steve's eyebrow and the corner of his mouth both lifted a little. "Kind of like claustrophobia?"

He had valid point, Danny would give him that one--Steve couldn't help feeling guilty any more than Danny could help feeling like a room was closing in on him when it's too small and dark. But he could tell Steve was also trying to lighten the mood a little. "I hate you," Danny said, mostly managing a straight face. "So much hate. Really."

"You love me."

Danny didn't even have the heart to argue that, not when Steve was sitting there with that look, red-eyed, swallowing against things he didn't know how to feel for all that he was trying to play it off. "Yeah, well..." 

Steve swallowed again, the look shifting into the one Danny alternately feared and dreamed about. He knew what was coming, and for all the times he'd told himself they had to stop this, he didn't even try. He leaned into it, meeting Steve's mouth halfway. 

Steve's arms wrapped around him, giving Danny no chance to get away. Not that he wanted to. He would happily stay right there, and damn any and all consequences. Steve's mouth was amazing, and Danny hadn't had nearly enough chances in the past to explore it as thoroughly as he was now.

The crisp taste of beer was cool on Steve's lips, but quickly gave way to the heat in Steve's mouth, the taste that Danny would know anywhere, even after only a few kisses. He'd known it the first time they kissed, if he was being honest. 

One of them really needed to stop this, Danny thought, as his hands moved up Steve's back to cradle his neck, keeping him in place. Steve moved and Danny froze for a second, sure he was about to bring them back to reality, until he realized Steve was moving to push Danny back onto the couch. 

By the time Danny realized he was on his back, Steve was draped over him, his arms underneath Danny's shoulders, his cock pressing hard into the crease of Danny's thigh. 

He'd lost count of how many dreams he'd had about this, but none of them could come close to reality. The heat of Steve's body, being enveloped in that smell that Danny had gotten so familiar with, the weight of him holding Danny down on the couch, it was impossible for his mind to create this properly. If he wasn't careful he'd be ruined for anyone else for life.

He should stop before he was. He knew that, even as his hands traveled down to cup Steve's ass, encouraging the tiny thrusts Steve was making against him. He guided Steve's hips until they shifted just enough that their cocks brushed against each other as Danny pushed up against Steve's weight, and it was so good, even through their clothes, so fucking good that Danny was going to lose his mind. 

He wanted, fucking hell how he wanted this. He needed it like air, like oxygen, was starting to worry he wouldn't be able to breathe when it was ripped away from him again. Because this was it, and once he'd had this, really had it, he couldn't forget what it was like. He'd be too far gone to turn back.

And yet he'd have no choice but to turn back anyway. 

He wrenched his head to the side, breaking off their kiss. "Steve," he said, stopping to bite at his lip and push up again as Steve's lips latched onto Danny's neck. "Steve, wait. We can't, we have to--fuck," seriously, the talent Steve had with his mouth was just--"No. Steve. Stop!"

He pushed at Steve's shoulders, his words finally registering in Steve's head as he froze. "Fuck," Steve said, the word vibrating against Danny's neck, making him shudder. He felt an answering shudder go through Steve before he pushed himself up and off Danny, sitting on the coffee table, elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. 

Danny took a few deep breaths before sitting up on the couch, facing Steve. "Hey," he said. When Steve didn't look at him, Danny pulled Steve's hands off his face and ducked his head down until it was level with Steve's. "Hey."

Steve didn't move his head, but he did look at Danny through his lashes. "I'm sorry."

"No. Don't. We were both willing participants there. And we both want..." Danny ran a hand through his hair and sat back against the couch. "But we can't. Not yet." Because there was no way he'd be able to let Steve go. And Steve clearly wasn't ready to break it off with Catherine, for her sake or his, Danny still wasn't sure. 

"Danny, I...this is what I want. _You_ are what I want."

"I know." And he did. But he knew Steve, and he knew Steve's track record with things that he wanted. With people who meant something to him.

In Steve's shoes, Danny would probably be running away from anything that might hurt too much if he lost it, too. 

Danny looked down, his eyes landing on the bulge behind Steve's fly. He closed his eyes quickly. Steve had to figure things out soon. Or Catherine needed to do something. Either one was fine, but something needed to change. 

Because Danny didn't know how much longer he could hold out, and he'd gotten the picture pretty clearly just now that Steve was having the same problem. 

And when they did finally do this, there'd be no turning back.

He'd make that point to Steve, but not right now. Not after the day he'd had. "Look," Danny said, leaning forward again, nudging Steve's knee with his own. "Stay and have another beer. I recorded the Devils game--I'll explain hockey to you again."

Steve's laughter was a few shades off normal, but it would pass with most people. "I told you I understand hockey." 

"No, you understand how they score in hockey. You have not yet begun to understand the beauty of the game, babe."

Steve's eyes darkened on that last word. "I'd love to," he said. "But I don't think I can--I mean, sitting here, with you there, after--" Steve waved a hand around as if that would explain it. Not that he needed to; Danny got it. 

"I know," Danny said. He'd have trouble keeping his hands to himself, too. He just didn't want Steve to go. But he had to, or.... 

Danny inhaled slowly and let the air out in a rush. "I'll see you in the morning?" 

Steve nodded. He licked his lips, and Danny felt a surge of want that made him have to grip the couch to keep from grabbing Steve. "Danny, I...."

"I know." 

Steve gave Danny one more long look before pushing up off the table and walking out without saying another word. 

\---  
END

**Author's Note:**

> Want to learn more about me and my writing? Visit my page at <http://www.jamiemeadowswrites.com/>


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